


Not Another Teen Party

by casstayinmyass



Category: Marilyn Manson (Band), Not Another Teen Movie (2001)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Based On Manson's Tainted Love Music Video, Based on a Music Video, Bisexual Manson, Blow Jobs, Bottom Jake, Closeted Character, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time Bottoming, Gay Panic, Hand Jobs, House Party, Kissing, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Sexual Tension, Spanking, Tainted Love, Top Manson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2021-02-08 13:29:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21476785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casstayinmyass/pseuds/casstayinmyass
Summary: Jake Wyler is the most popular guy in school, but he's about to get a real wake up call when an unexpected guest arrives.
Relationships: Jake Wyler/Priscilla (past), John 5/Catherine Wyler, Marilyn Manson/Chris Evans, Marilyn Manson/Jake Wyler, Marilyn Manson/Rose McGowan (past), Twiggy Ramirez/Candy Cane (Topless Girl From Video)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 10





	Not Another Teen Party

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SkinSlave](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkinSlave/gifts).

> Based on this wonderful art! https://headoverhiddles.tumblr.com/post/189135896938  
and the sexiest music video on the internet: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rc5nNYS968k
> 
> Also one part of the canon music video I changed was Twiggy taking over being the DJ. I changed it to Ginger cause Ginger is an actual DJ as well as drummer, and they missed a golden opportunity with my talented boy there :(

Jake Wyler, star of John Hughes High’s football team, and resident teenage Adonis never really felt at home at these parties. Not that he was supposed to. It wasn’t his home, he was at someone else’s home. That’s the point of going to a party.

Anyway.

He never really felt like he was ‘part of the scene’, which is a disconcerting thing, seeing as he was the most popular guy in school. Wasn’t he supposed to feel like the centerpiece of every high school party? He glanced around the crowd of fellow teens. Nah. He just felt like an accessory. He wouldn’t mind being an accessory… only, for the right guy. _Person! Right person._

“Jake!”

The squeal came from the stairs. 

“Priscilla.”

Each smile he gave the cheerleader was more plastic than the last. It just made sense for the most popular guy in school to make heart eyes after the most popular girl, right? Wrong. Maybe for a while Jake thought she was attractive, back when they dated for a year. I mean, she _was_. But over time, she had lost her appeal. All she was now was as fake as the costume jewellery she thought would impress him.

“You’re here with the boys!” she squealed, and looked to his friends as if she was trying to remember their names.

“Yeah,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. The best way to describe his smile at this point was polite. All he wanted tonight was to find some anonymous guy who he’d never see again, and get fucked so hard he couldn’t walk tomorrow. Wait—by… by a girl! With a strap on! Or…

“Gonna come get a drink?” Priscilla asked, giggling to fill in the awkward silence. Jake resigned himself to the fact that he would have to have a drink in his hand to blend in. He agreed, following her to the kitchen, and tried not to worry too hard about the constant stream of gay fantasies hammering into him. Into his brain! Not…_ oh, fuck._

* * *

“So how do you know this guy again?”

Marilyn didn’t look away from the steering wheel.

“I don’t know him. Catherine told us about the party. Guy’s a fuckin’ 18 year old mama’s boy who’s throwing a party.”

“Not much of a mama’s boy to be throwing a party like this,” Twiggy smirked from the backseat, acquainting himself with the breasts of the sex worker, Candy, he had brought along as his date.

“Who is Preston, anyway?” John asked. Catherine Wyler, his current girlfriend, answered.

“My brother knows him from school. I figured they could use a few unexpected guests.”

Pogo rolled his eyes, groaning. “Not another teen party, man. You know what these are? Jailbait. You never know who’s over 18, it’s like a plate of Satan’s forbidden fruit.”

Marilyn made a face as he pulled up a winding road, and Twiggy looked up over Candy’s nipples. “That’s why you bring your own.” He hesitated, looking back at the sex worker. “You’re over 18, right?”

“Duh!” the redhead retorted, reapplying her black lipstick as Twiggy went back to sucking her tits.

“Where are we?” Ginger asked.

“Los Angeles,” John answered, and Ginger looked at him.

“I know. I mean, where?”

“Does it really matter?” Marilyn smirked, and pulled up at the mansion where the party was already in full swing. Twiggy grinned, sitting up, and Marilyn made sure his grill was in right in the mirror as the car bounced to the beat of the radio. Grabbing his skull-handled cane, he opened the door of the ride, his crew gathering around him. As the blonde with the mohawk made the first step up the walk, Marilyn slapped his cane into his chest, blocking him off.

“Look, but don’t touch. Get shit-hammered, but not shit-hammered enough that you can’t read their IDs before they blow you.” Pogo hung back to walk beside Twiggy.

“Do hand jobs require ID?”

“I wouldn’t risk it, man. I’d ID before a _kiss_ at a party like this.”

“Good call, good call.”

Jake had made his way back to the front door, joining his friends again. Priscilla had gone upstairs to get changed.

“What are your plans for the night, Bri?” Twiggy snickered, nudging his friend’s shoulder. “We both know you’re not gonna stay dry all night. In both respects.”

“I'm gonna do what I always do. Gonna get high as a kite, drunk as a college slut on spring break, and get my dick nice and wet,” Manson adjusted his tie. “I’m just gonna be smart about it. Won’t settle for less than the best.”

The five approached the house.

“Takes me back to high school,” Ginger laughed, watching a couple make out in the bushes.

“Fucking awful, isn’t it?” Marilyn growled, “Let’s go fuck shit up.”

Jake watched a redhead take her shirt off and walk in topless on the arm of some guy with black dreads. He then saw Catherine walk past him, dragging her rock star guitar-whatever boyfriend with her that she wouldn’t shut up about.

“John.”

“Jake.”

The two nodded to each other awkwardly, and then. _Then_. He saw him.

Jake nearly bit off the side of his red plastic cup as the hottest man he’d ever seen breezed up the steps. Dark red lipstick stained perfect bow-tie lips, pale skin glowing in the moonlight, and he rocked a black suit that made Jake want to get on his knees.

Dumbfounded, he barely even registered he was being manhandled by the guy as he grabbed him by the collar, dragging him in and smirking. That dark gaze gave Jake an instant hard-on, and something in those eyes told him the goth god knew it.

“You’re a pretty thing, aren’t you?” he grumbled, flashing a silver grill that finished his look perfectly. Jake could only open his mouth and close it again, like a fish. It was as if all his dirtiest fantasies ran to hide, and were replaced by the blushing, hopeless romantic swooning of a 13-year-old girl. But he didn’t want anything to do with this guy, right? _Right?! _

The unexpected guest let his shirt go, and brushed dirt off his shoulder, walking past.

“What a creep.”

Jake blinked, turning to find Priscilla back to torment him some more. He sighed softly, watching the guy and his merry band of misfits disrupt the party with their entrance. “Yeah.”

“You do know who that asshole is, right?”

“Jesus?” Jake muttered under his breath, then coughed. “No, I have no idea.”

“Marilyn Manson.”

Jake looked at her, alarmed. “The guy who had that pregnant woman killed?” The cheerleader frowned.

“No. The metal artist?”

“Oh.” Jake nodded as if he knew. “I’ve never really been into welding, myself.”

“He’s a metal _singer, _idiot!”

“Right, I knew that.” Priscilla leaned in, shaking her head in disgust.

“I’m appalled that he even came here.” Jake shifted uncomfortably, hoping his letterman jacket was doing a good enough job of hiding his erection.

“Don’t you think it’s kinda cool? You know… a celebrity like that, showing up at Preston’s party?” _Yeah, that’s all it was_. He had popped a boner because he’d never been that close to someone so famous. Although, he hadn’t known he was famous at the time his blood decided to rush down to his cock.

“A _celebrity_?! Really Jake?! More like Satan’s minion. I heard he’s an ordained minister of the Satanic church, and has people murder cats and stab each other at his concerts. He was also totally responsible for this school shooting that happened two years ago, like he personally orchestrated it himself to teach people a lesson for like, hating his music.”

“Huh,” Jake nodded, barely listening.

“Hellooo! Earth to Jake! He’s literally the devil!” She shuddered, fingering a tiny cross around her neck. “My ex-boyfriend before you—he was an arsonist, he’s in jail now-- used to like playing his music when he ate me out in my parent’s bedroom. I used to tell him he was going to hell, along with Marilyn Manson.”

_Hell might not be so bad_, Jake thought, downing the rest of his drink, then did a double take.

“You dated an arsonist before me?”

Marilyn could feel the stares. He reveled in them, watching all the people around him gasp in shock, shoot dirty looks his way, or lick their lips in lust like he was the second coming of Christ. He was used to all three. He got them at every concert, public appearance, and yes—party. The selection wasn’t bad tonight, to be honest. He’d already come in contact with a few people who had stood out to him.

He expected tonight to be another touch and go, steamy one night stand. Frankly, he’d never settle for any less, or any more.

He’d just broken up with Rose, and parties like these were keeping him sane, keeping him from becoming a completely depressed shut-in. He missed her and her little fucking dogs, but he didn’t miss the arguments. Absinthe was a good friend in this trying time, but he couldn’t make love to it. (Well, he’d probably tried at least once.) So, when John’s airhead girlfriend had suggested her brother’s friend’s party, it had been another mindless way to drink and fuck his frustration out.

“Hey.” A girl who reminded him far too much of the girl he had lost his virginity to made pouty lips up at him. He didn’t waste a smile on her—he simply pushed past with a scoff, one of his famous _it’s cute how you think I would _laughs. Besides, he didn’t need to get crabs again.

“They call this music?” Twiggy muttered, and that lit a fire under Ginger’s ass.

“Where are you going, Kenny?!” Pogo asked, “You’ll miss all the chicks!”

“I have a very specific skill set, which I rarely get to display,” Ginger called, and leapt over the couch to run toward the DJ booth out by the pool.

“Yeah. You’re real good at being a dingus,” Pogo muttered, and sat down in between two scantily clad girls, welcoming them into his lap with an appreciative nod.

Some guy outside with headphones was busy turning some boy band shit from the 80s: Tainted Love by Soft Cell. Ginger approached to fix this.

“Excuse me, man. You’re doing a real good job, really, but could I possibly take over?” Ginger requested politely. The guy turned, took one look at the drummer, and screamed, tossing off his headphones and bolting. Ginger picked them up. Was it something he said?

Manson let one particularly hot girl grind on him for half a song, but he grew bored of her fast. Moving on to another one, he rated her a solid 8 out of 10, and let her rub her tits against his chest for a bit. She reached down to palm him through his pants, already working him up for a sloppy hand job, and the singer let her, not bothering to put too much effort into reciprocating. She could do all the work if she so wished, and by the look of her eyes, it seemed like she was going to orgasm just from touching his dick.

Marilyn had to smirk. It was so much different now than what his actual high school parties had been like. Back then, if he even showed his face at one, he’d have probably been beaten to a pulp and dumped in the bushes while the jocks all lit his underwear on fire.

Speaking of jocks…

His mind wandered back to that guy at the door, distracted as the wannabe teen slut in front of him moaned and dropped to her knees. Pretty boy stuck out to him, for some reason. Maybe it was the awe in his eyes, the pink that tinged his cheeks when Marilyn had grabbed him. Chewing on his bottom lip, Marilyn finally felt his dick respond. That innocent look. He wanted to see it again, and he wanted to destroy it.

“Sweetheart?” he murmured, tipping the girl’s chin up, “Can you stand up for daddy?” She blinked her doe eyes, and did as he said. He slipped her a hundred, and patted her on the shoulder. “You’d make an amazing stripper.” Then he turned on his heel and walked out, searching for a spot for a little alone time.

Jake sipped on his beer, clutching onto the table as Priscilla talked his ear off about cheer practice.

“--And then Amber had the fucking _audacity_ to say I wasn’t doing my splits to the right count. I’m her superior! Like that tramp has any concept of beat counting! I’d like to split her—”

Jake slipped into his own head, imagining what his ideal night would look like. He’d like to be romanced, carefully taken by the hand, and told how good-looking he was. Then he’d wait for the kiss, which would happen under the moonlight, by the pool maybe. Both of them would lean in, waiting for just the right moment where their lips touched and fireworks burst in the distance.

“Are you listening to me?!”

“Yeah! Amber, what a bitch. Listen Pris, I need some air.”

Priscilla, shocked and furious that Jake would need a break from her, stood fuming in the kitchen until her two plastic friends came rushing to her aid. Jake made his escape, dodging a few people until he exited the party.

He exhaled in relief, feeling for the first time in his life how soul-sucking all that was. Maybe he was maturing. He graduated this spring after all… maybe it was a sign.

“Look who it is. Pretty boy, in the flesh.”

A drawling voice from behind him made Jake turn around, and his eyes widened as he saw—

“Marilyn Manson?” he startled, jolting in surprise.

“That’s the name.”

"I'm, uh, Jake Wyler."

Manson cocked his head. “I’m scary, Jake, but I didn’t know I could still scare 18-year-olds.” He gave him a look from under that dark eyeshadow. “You are 18, right?”

“Uh. Yeah. My birthday was last month.”

“Happy belated birthday. Except not. I don’t give a fuck about your birthday. Come join me.”

Marilyn kicked one tall boot back against the brick wall of the house, and pulled out a joint from his back pocket. He had confiscated it from Pogo, since his keyboardist had too much weed on him for his own good anyway. Striking a match against his platform, he lit it, and Jake watched, transfixed, as the smoke curled past his grill, grazing those blood red lips and drifting up.

“Here,” Marilyn offered, and Jake snapped out of it, jogging over.

“Oh, I don’t smoke. It would hurt my football career.”

“It’s not a cigarette. It’s different. It’s just like drinking.” Manson grinned. “All the pro football players do it.” Jake seriously doubted that, but he took the thing anyway, aching to impress the sexy rock star any way he could. He took a drag that was way too deep for his first try, and Marilyn just leaned back, letting him find out the hard way how not to smoke a joint.

Jake gagged, thrusting the joint back to Marilyn. “That’s some… great stuff!”

“Uh huh.”

Jake leaned against the wall too, slipping his hands into his letterman jacket pockets. “Why’d you come to a party like this?” he asked Marilyn. “I mean, don’t you and your band mates have, like… Iggy Pop parties or something to go to? Movie stars to sleep with?”

“Yes,” Marilyn answered truthfully, “But sometimes, you need a break from all that.” He glanced back inside. “Not that this is much of a break. High school, Hollywood. It’s all the same bullshit. Anyway, that’s not the reason we checked it out. We got an invite from someone around here, figured we could screw with some good Christian teenagers, have some fun ruining your Saturday night. My guitarist John, he has this girlfriend—”

“Catherine?!” 

“Yeah…” Marilyn looked over. “She invited us. You know her?”

“Dude, that’s my sister.”

“Mm, I can see the resemblance. Stupid and hot.”

“Wh—”

“Words. Take it as a compliment.” 

They slipped into comfortable silence, the low thrum of Ginger’s DJing efforts and the soft singe of the joint burning with each pull the only sounds around them. Jake watched Marilyn out of the corner of his eye, felt his heartbeat pick up. He was like some kind of tall, suave, well spoken vampire that existed only in legend. He slipped back into his fireworks fantasy. After they would kiss, Marilyn would smile, looking down.

_“I can’t believe I just did that. You’re not usually my type of guy, but…” _

_“Tell me,” Jake would grin. _

_“But I just find you so… beautiful.”_

_“Go on.”_

_“So handsome. So attractive—”_

“Like a guppie.”

Jake blinked, thrust back into reality. “I’m sorry?”

Marilyn exhaled a plume of smoke. “When you disassociate like that, you look like a constipated guppie.”

Jake cleared his throat, trying not to imagine what that would look like. “I, uh. I wasn’t disassociating, I was… never mind, you know what? I was disassociating.”

Marilyn smirked. “I’m sorry I had to break the news to you.”

“Huh?” 

“I’m sure you’ve spent your whole life hearing how gorgeous you are. Sorry I compared you to a fish.”

“No, it’s… fine,” Jake laughed a little, blush returning, “It’s a little refreshing, actually. I never know who’s my friend for me, or for who I am. Everyone in high school is so fake.”

“High school is just like the music business.” Marilyn took another deep, thoughtful drag, and passed the joint back to Jake. “The sooner you learn that everyone will say what you want and do what you want just to make a little money off you and get themselves ahead, the sooner you wake up. So, good luck with that.”

Jake huffed, looking down. “On that happy note...”

Marilyn smirked. “Mm. Sorry, I turn into a depressing motherfucker at parties. That’s why they dope me up.”

“Aren’t you doped up enough on this?” Jake coughed, attempting another small drag and failing to hold it in. Marilyn just smiled.

“Posh is more my thing.” 

“What’s posh?” Jake continued to cough, almost afraid to ask.

“Co-caine,” Marilyn sounded out the word for him humorously, and took the joint back before the kid’s goddamn lungs failed. “But I’m not about to bring blow to a high school party. I’m a bad influence, but I’m not my bassist. Say no to drugs, Wyler.” To drive the point home, Marilyn stubbed the joint out, watching the wisps of smoke die under his platform boot.

“Sure,” Jake gasped, wishing he had some water, “No problem.” He was suddenly aware of how dry his mouth was, and his lips parted, only serving to make things worse.

“You know… a mouth pretty as yours,” Marilyn started, “Should be put to good use.”

“What do you mean?” Jake swallowed, and Marilyn backed him against the wall.

"I think you know exactly what I mean, sweetheart.”

He braced his hands against Jake’s shoulders, and parted the boy’s lips with his tongue, gaining entrance immediately. Moving his fingers inside Jake’s letterman, he pushed it off his shoulders, running his hands down Jake’s arms. Kissing him ferociously, he grabbed Jake’s hands, lifting them up and holding them back against the wall, deepening the kiss.

Jake could feel Manson’s grill with his own tongue, the gritty shock of the metallic mouthpiece waking up his senses. Marilyn tasted like burning herb and something addictive that Jake wanted more of.

Marilyn lifted his knee between Jake’s legs, letting the younger man grind for some relief. Jake gratefully took the opportunity, his jeans tightening painfully around his aching erection. If he wasn’t hard enough from meeting Manson at the start of the night, and still not hard enough from watching him smoke, he was definitely on the edge now. _But he wasn’t gay! This was just…_

“Not gonna cum, are you, baby?” Manson whispered in his ear, reaching down with one hand to rub Jake’s chest, “Not so soon?”

“N-no,” Jake lied, already feeling his climax approach.

“Damn right you’re not,” Marilyn let him go, licking his lips. He fixed his jacket, straightened his tie, and tilted his chin up, giving Jake a glare so utterly sinister that it made his dick jerk in his pants. “Bedroom. Undress. Now. I’ll be up in five minutes.” He didn’t need to tell Jake what would happen if he wasn’t ready—the younger man had a good idea.

_So, maybe he was a little gay._

Marilyn let Jake get a head start, going in to check on his boys and giving himself some time to calm down. He had better stamina than the 18-year-old, but it had been quite a few months since Rose, and the last time Manson had gotten laid hadn’t been as satisfying as it could have been. He wanted to last good and long for the boy waiting for him upstairs.

Ginger was still safely turning records by the pool. Manson never had to worry about John, so that was fine. Pogo was making out with two girls at once, but Manson deduced that they both looked relatively of age, so it should be fine. He looked around for Twiggy, and saw him with his head up Candy’s skirt. He walked over, and tapped his shoulder. Twiggy must’ve loved the taste of her pussy, since he wouldn’t budge.

Marilyn kicked him, and Twiggy fell forward, making Candy scream in surprise. Twiggy unburied himself, whipping around to glare at whoever interrupted him.

“What the fuck?” he spat up at Marilyn, wiping his lips, “Busy!”

“I can see that. I need your lube.”

“Get your own.” Marilyn kicked him again.

“Jeordie.”

“Ow! Fuck off, here.” He reached into his pocket, realized it was the wrong pocket, rolled his eyes, and searched again. Finally, he threw the little bottle up to him. “Why do you need lube, anyway? None of the girls at this party would need it. I don’t see any 80 year olds, but maybe I’m just fucking blind.”

“You are wearing sunglasses indoors.”

“That doesn’t explain why you need lube.”

“Use your fucking brain and tell me why I’d need lube, asshole,” Marilyn shot back, and Twiggy frowned for a second.

“Oh. Oh yeah. Have fun.” Then he jammed his head back up Candy’s skirt.

Marilyn brushed past John where he and Catherine were chatting with someone, and ran into a short guy with curly hair.

“Marilyn Manson? What the hell are you doing at my party?” The kid looked genuinely baffled.

“You must be Preston.” Manson held out a hand to shake, and when Preston went for it, he snaked around him, walking up the stairs with purpose.

John held Catherine’s hand, as Janey talked to them.

“You guys are such a cute couple!” she grinned, “How do you know each other?”

Catherine snuggled into his shoulder. “Oh, I saw him at a concert, and flashed him. That was that, really.”

“Yeah. Love at first sight,” John smiled, holding her close.

“Also, he looks like my brother.”

“What?”

Upstairs, Marilyn made his way through the crowd, and saw a room at the end of the hall with a big pink sign that read ‘KEEP OUT’. Instantly, he knew Jake was waiting in there.

Jake waited on the bed. He had stripped out of everything, and had nothing but a fuzzy little pink heart pillow to cover his penis. There was also the possibility that someone who is not Marilyn would walk in—and it wasn’t the fact that he was naked that unsettled him about that, as he wasn’t ashamed of his body (it was a great body, nice abs and pecs, and he loved showing it off), but the questions of who he was waiting for that would arise.

_Oh god. I’m about to get fucked by Marilyn Manson,_ he thought to himself. He didn’t even know who that was before tonight.

He wondered how big Manson’s cock was. He was a tall guy. What if it was too big to take? Jake had fingered himself a couple times before, but each time, he had forced himself to imagine a girl doing it each time. He had never actually used a dildo or anything like that, even though he knew he’d come in seconds on one. If his dad ever—EVER—found something like that in his room, he’d be homeless and disinherited so fast it would give him whiplash.

Just imagining something like that… Marilyn, so, so big, inside him, his cock jerked again against his stomach. Jake couldn’t help it. He closed his eyes, his mind replaying the kiss outside again and again, how Marilyn had licked into his mouth so dirty, pinning him down like a dirty whore as he watched him almost get off. His hips pushed forward as he dragged himself against the soft pillow, the friction against his cockhead making him whine.

“Fuck,” he whispered, his hand automatically moving down, “Fuck!” He started jacking himself off, like he did every morning and some nights. He pictured Marilyn’s lips sliding down over his cock, pictured the lipstick ring it would leave at his base. “Ah!” His hips lifted off the bed, and that’s when the door opened.

Marilyn stepped in, pulling at his black tie to loosen it. His eyebrows shot up when he saw the spectacle before him.

“Oh. I see you’ve started without me.”

Like a deer caught in headlights, Jake let go of his dick. “N-no!”

“Nah, if you don’t need me, I’ll just—”

“Wait!” Marilyn smirked as he stood, facing the door. It was just too easy. “I-I’m sorry. I started thinking of you. I got carried away.”

“You did. What do you say?”

“I said sorry.”

“Say it again.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Mhmm.”

“I did what you said! I got naked, I waited. The least you could do is…” He trailed off at Marilyn’s withering stare, and averted his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

Marilyn nodded, and wordlessly he turned back, pulling his tie off and shedding his jacket. Jake tried not to moan as he watched the older celebrity undo the buttons of his black dress shirt, each pop torturous. Jake’s cock ached, but he didn’t dare touch it again. Now, with an unbuttoned shirt and his black pants still on, Marilyn approached the bed, and admired Jake’s body. Jake squirmed, loving the attention. It also set his skin on fire that Marilyn was fully clothed and he was completely naked. The power dynamic was going to his head and making him dizzy.

“Let me see your hole,” Marilyn said bluntly, and Jake presented himself. Marilyn got on his knees at the end of the bed, and encouraged Jake to drape his legs over his shoulders. He did, and Marilyn popped the cap on the bottle of lube. Getting his fingers slick, he teased Jake’s entrance, and finally pushed one finger in, knuckle deep. Jake let out a laboured breath, and Marilyn added another.

“You ever done this to yourself before, pretty thing?” Manson asked, dragging his fingers in and out in a brutally slow pace. Jake inhaled sharply, nodding. “Ever fucked yourself with something a little bigger…?”

“C-Can’t…”

“Mmm,” Marilyn hummed, moving in to bite Jake’s inner thighs. The sensitive flesh quivered a little, and Marilyn curved his fingers, searching for the spot that would make Jake crumble. “Your family?”

“M-my dad… he would… kill me, if he ever found… that.”

“Yeah. Well. Fuck your dad.”

“What?”

“Your dad can go to hell. Your daddy can suck my big fat cock, because tonight, I’m fucking you so hard you’ll forget how much of an asshole he is. All you’ll be able to think about tonight, sweetheart, is me, and my cock. Mmkay? I’m your fuckin daddy tonight.”

“Ohh…”

Marilyn licked a stripe up Jake’s dick, and suckled on the head a little. “Say my name sweetheart, I need to know who’s treating you right.”

“M-Marilyn.” Jake blearily looked down at him, parting his knees more to get a better view. “D-do you prefer… Mr. Manson?”

“Since we’re gettin’ so intimate here,” Marilyn whispered, baring his teeth, “You can call me Brian.”

“Oh god, Brian!”

“Don’t shout it for the world to hear, baby. Just between you and me. Mm?”

“Mmhm. Yeah.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m gonna fuck you good. I wanna be buried in this tight little hole, baby.”

“Please,” Jake breathed, breath hitching. Marilyn watched him, eyes dark and predatory.

“So, so desperate. Are you sure you won’t just cum all over yourself the minute I slide in?” He slid his hand down his chest, beginning to unlatch his belt. “Or maybe… the minute you see my cock?”

“I’ll…” Jake grimaced, “I’ll be fine.”

Manson chuckled, sliding his belt off as slowly as he was fingering the boy. “Turn around.”

“What?”

“Turn around, sweetheart. I’ve got a little business to take care of first.”

Obediently, Jake turned around, presenting his ass to Marilyn. He looked down, facing the pillows and feeling embarrassment rage through him. He’d never done this for a guy before, and he’d only ever been the one in control in bed.

“No shame tonight, sweetheart,” Marilyn whispered, smoothing his hands up Jake’s ass and up his lower back, “You’re beautiful.” He pressed soft kisses to the small dimples at the small of his back, and moved his face down to give a lick to his balls.

“Agh, Brian—” Jake warned, collapsing onto the bed like a board. Marilyn picked him up by the middle, and moved him back into position on all fours, standing on his knees again and bringing his belt down in a hard slap against the boy’s ass. _Wrecking something beautiful was the biggest turn on of them all._ The spanking earned him another moan.

“You’re more of a slut than you let on,” Marilyn growled, and let him go, dropping his belt. “On your back.” 

Jake rolled over, and Marilyn slid in between his legs, covering Jake’s body with his own and initiating another kiss. Their tongues mingled, Jake finally giving Marilyn a little something to work with. He bit Jake’s bottom lip, and the burst of pain aroused him even more. Marilyn reached down, and started to jack him off, stroking his cock, up and down, blindly but with precision. 

“I’m not--- aahh, oh,” Jake babbled, and Marilyn knew the telltale signs of an orgasm better than anyone. Jake lifted off the bed a little, gasping in short puffs, and Marilyn felt the sticky liquid coat his hand. Jake looked down, panting.

“I got jizz on your coat…”

“I’ve got more coats.”

“You’re wearing this one tonight, though…”

“It means I fucked and got fucked. Better jizz than beer.”

Jake’s head fell back a bit, and he barely registered it as Marilyn snaked down, closing his lips around his softening cock. He felt the rock star lick up his spending, and watched as he started to work him to hardness again. A minute and a half of sucking and paying special attention to the spots where Jake moaned the loudest, he was almost fully hard again.

“What a good boy,” Marilyn whispered, popping off with an obscene drop of cum dribbling down his bottom lip. “Every good slut can cum more than once.”

“Ah, yep,” Jake nodded, desperate to feel the older man inside of him. The singer could tell he was anxious, so he stood again up to his full height, unzipping his pants and taking off his shirt. He went to take off his boxers, but Jake stopped him. “Let me.”

Marilyn tentatively let go of his underwear, allowing his boy to crawl forward on the bed. Jake looked up at him, all innocence and parted lips, and folded his boxers down, his erection finally set free. Jake’s eyelids fluttered a little at the sight of the heavy cock in front of him, and he wasn’t about to pretend he could suck dick, so he closed his fist around it, using a little pre-cum to stroke up and down the shaft. Marilyn groaned, head rolling back. His cock began to throb, so he pushed Jake off, overtaking him and pinning him down on the bed again.

Jake tried to say something, but Marilyn kissed him again, underwear around his ankle. He finally got between Jake’s legs up on his knees, and held onto his calves as he pushed in.

Jake held his breath. He had never felt anything like this before—it was burning, like being ripped apart, but after a few seconds, it was the most intense pleasure he’d ever felt.

“Fuck me,” he whispered, and Marilyn smirked, thrusting in. Each thrust was a little harder, and the singer loved looking down at the boy, loved watching how enraptured he was, how gone he was, how much he was enjoying his cock.

“Give me what I need,” Marilyn growled, “I’m gonna fucking cum in your ass, little whore.”

“Yeah,” Jake gasped, “Take it. Take me!”

“Breathe, sweetheart.”

“Ah! Mhm. I’m breathing.”

Marilyn started really pounding him, losing a bit of his control as he found himself balls deep in not only this kid’s tight ass, but a vortex of desire. He really _had_ been deprived of a good fuck, and this guy was making up for it.

“You’re amazing. You’re doing so amazing, taking my cock like that.”

“You like the way I’m taking it?”

“I love it, baby. So good for me. So pretty, little fuckin’ pretty boy.”

For a moment, Jake forgot about everything. He forgot his high school status, who he was, who he was supposed to be. All he knew was, he was having the best sex of his life, and it felt better than getting fucked in the ass should. Or how he used to think it should feel, anyway.

“I’m gonna cum, sweetheart,” Marilyn growled in his ear, “Tell daddy when.”

“I… I’m almost there, just a…” Jake licked his lips, and Marilyn slapped his hand away as it reached for his cock.

“Mine,” he snapped, and gritted his teeth as he jacked the younger man off, pounding his ass in a bruising pace that was sure to get both of them off soon. His whole body cast a shadow over Jake, and the sheer height of him, the power he had over him was beyond arousing.

The giant pink, plush bunny rabbits around them bounced on the creaking bed as they fucked, tumbling off the sides as they went harder.

“Oh god,” Jake whined, sounding a lot like he imagined someone like Janey would sound in bed, “Oh god, cum in my ass, Bri!” Marilyn groaned as he finished, and Jake came for a second time, nerves buzzing and mind short circuiting. Marilyn stayed in him for a few seconds, all the way in, grinding his cock right into Jake’s prostate to keep his orgasm as long as possible. “Yeah,” Jake sighed, and Marilyn finally pulled out, jacking himself a few times and shaking his dick. He pulled his underwear back up, never a big fan of being completely naked for too long, and sat on the edge of the bed. “No cuddles after sex?” Jake murmured, muscular arms supporting his head.

Marilyn huffed, grabbing his shirt. “Fuck you.”

The two re-entered the party, and thankfully, nobody had noticed they were gone. Jake headed down first, and Marilyn followed, making sure his hair looked as fucked up as possible. He smudged his eyeliner to match his smudged lipstick, and when Jake frowned at him, he explained in amusement: “I’ve got a reputation to uphold.”

“Jake! There you are.” Priscilla stopped right in front of him, and made a face at Marilyn as he kept walking past her and sneered right back.

“Ew! Why were you talking to that ungodly freak?!”

Jake sighed, snatching her drink and taking a long swig. “You know what, Priscilla? I think what you need is a freak. Maybe it’ll loosen you up a little.”

Marilyn collected Ginger, and he and his band settled in on the couch, letting some goth girls come dance for them. Twiggy blinked, half-lidded eyes revealing just how high he was by now. He pushed his sunglasses back up, wiped his nose, which was powder white, and welcomed Candy into his lap, though he probably couldn’t tell her apart from anyone there at this point.

Pogo leaned over to the singer, and handed him his skull cane. He reeked of cheap beer. “You… ‘re not drunk yet! The _fuck_?!”

“You’re right. That needs to be fixed immediately.”

John handed him two beers, and Manson got drinking. He glimpsed Jake heading for the door, and excused himself. He sauntered up, twirling the cane.

“Heading out?”

“This party… it just isn’t my scene, y'know?”

Marilyn nodded, and clapped him on the back. “Remember. One day, the plastic will all melt away man, and it’ll just be you, doing whatever the hell you want to do with your life. Just for fun, become a nihilist.”

“I’m not Egyptian,” Jake told him sadly.

Manson wisely moved past this. “Right. Just fuck em all, kid. Figuratively and literally.” He winked, gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, and headed back to his crew.

Jake Wyler left the party with lipstick on his face, feeling every bit a bimbo who just got fucked by a dangerous rock star. Which is exactly what he was, and proud of it.


End file.
